Near Employment Experience

"I have always hated working. A job to me is...well, it's an invasion of privacy.
Getting blasted out of bed by an alarm clock so you can go somewhere and do
things you don't want to do, that's not my idea of living." --Danny McGoorty,
Irish Pool Player

I haven't had a proper job -- one where you go to an office every day and pretend
to work solidly for eight hours -- since 1998. At that point, I became a telecommuter,
working from my home hundreds of miles from the office that still deposited
my paychecks directly into my bank account every two weeks. That arrangement
lasted five beautiful years, ending over a year ago, and since then, it's been
a bit of ducking here, a bit of diving there, a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants
hodgepodge of unemployment checks, web design gigs, and miraculous tax refunds.
I have tried to minimize my needs and I have experienced an inordinate amount
of freedom.

It has been an agreeable existence, I must say, and little by little, it has
changed me psychologically. I have lost all sense of time. I am highly protective
of my outsized sense of personal rights, taking offense at any perceived infringement.
I have become smugly condescending toward the sort of clock-watching, vacation-day-counting,
half-hour lunchbreak-taking mentality of the daily grinding routine-deadened
world. In short, I have become very nearly unemployable.

"I usually did all right until I saw the first paycheck,
then I would tell everybody off. 'You mean this is all I get for hanging
around here since Tuesday?'" --McGoorty

Unfortunately, a recent drying-up of lucrative web design jobs, unemployment
checks, and tax refunds caused me momentarily to lose my nerve. Sooner or later,
if a man has no trust fund and is not much of a hustler, he is going to find
himself susceptible to the allure of steady wages and decent benefits. As dreadful
a prospect as it was, it was time to face the music. I had had a nice run, but
it was time to get a job.

I nearly got one, too. A nice, small, academic nonprofit institution was looking
for someone to do editorial and web-related things for them at a minimally acceptable
salary. The only problem was that it was located deep in New Jersey, and the
commute would be a life-ruining two hours -- in each direction. Clearly untenable;
perhaps that's why I applied. When they offered me the job, I had no choice
but to turn it down.

I'm about to hang up the phone in relief when something unexpected happens.
They offer to let me work from home, two days a week. I should have known then
that they were evil, slippery bastards. That was just enough to make the prospect
very nearly tolerable, and they knew it.

With the tattered remains of my sense of responsibility, I accept the position,
instantly triggering a pervasive sense of doom that hangs over me like a malignant
shroud, poisoning all my relationships. Within days, I am on the verge of divorce
and thinking seriously about extreme pharmaceutical abuse.

"One thing has always puzzled me. Why do people feel
so bad when they lose a job? It made me feel happy as hell, and I always
celebrated with a few drinks. When you get a job, that's when you should
have the long face. You need a few drinks then, too." --McGoorty

The days -- the precious days of fleeting freedom -- slip by as if to taunt
me, drawing me ever nearer to my first day of stumbling out of the house at
6:30 in the morning and stumbing home some 12 hours later, fit only for a joyless
meal and physical collapse. The noose is tightening. I am in a grim daze right
up until the moment the official offer letter finally comes through.

It turns out the sneaky weasels have slipped a few extra little provisions
into the letter, like the telecommuting can't start until after a 90 day probation
period. I know what this is. It's the old Bait and Switch! Not a good sign,
but still potentially negotiable. What really kills the deal is the nice lady's
tone of voice when I call her to reassert the original terms of our agreement.
She sounds weary. Exasperated.

"Is there anything ELSE, John?" That's what she says to me. She needs to check
with the Board. We'll talk the next day.

"Is there anything ELSE, John?" It keeps going through my head, growing rapidly
more offensive with each repetition. As if I am the one who is throwing unfair
monkey wrenches into the machinery out of left field. This is some human resources
method derived from Orwellian doublespeak. If you object to them screwing you,
it's you who's causing trouble. Maybe it's because earlier I had asked about
when the health coverage kicked in. Maybe that grated against the management
sensibility, an employee worrying about health care. Next thing you know he'll
want to know how much vacation time he gets.

By the next day, it isn't about the terms of the job anymore. I've been mortally
offended, and must follow the dictates of wounded dignity. It's time to pick
up and flee.

The phone call comes and I'm ready. My worst fear is that they'll have decided
to honor our original agreement; I needn't have worried. I launch into my speech,
which culminates with "I'm afraid I must respectfully withdraw." I was nearly moved
to real tears by my own tragic eloquence as I stood once again at the summit
of that coveted moral highground.

So it was over. I had looked employment right in its terrible eyes, and had
somehow emerged unscathed. And unemployed. I remain before you today a free
man. And, erm, if anyone needs any web stuff done, I'm not bad with PHP and
back-end database stuff. Feel free to call, but please be mindful of your tone
of voice. I've got one foot out the back door already.

Comments

Name

Subject

Comment

18 April 2013 17:53:30John

Yes, "I can always quit", that thought has gotten me through many employment-related trials!

15 April 2013 21:39:53Andre

That's typical - just before signing up, "they" change the role, and expect you to still prostrate yourself.

I hate commuting and mixing with the great unwashed.

To interact with all the sheeple out there is mind numbing and annoying, especially in public transport.

Not that I'm special - I manage to THINK sometimes, and it hurts when you see what you have to deal with.

Was "let go" about three months ago and am relishing my utter abandonment, and freedom, but, sadly, am running out of money to support the tribe, so having to look for some menial role to make ends meet.

Aaah well, I can always resign.

19 October 2007 06:35:59John

Go Kiko Go!

18 October 2007 21:02:11Abby

Kiko, you are our hero!

15 October 2007 00:56:56Kiko

I haven't had a proper job since 1998. Is almost 10 years. I work here and there and save as much as I can. I didn't plan this, is just happen. I don't have money (No Job), no problems (No Money) and have freedom.

27 April 2005 13:08:47John Schoneboom

Why if it isn't the man who inspired us to add a comments feature in the first place! Yes, the Eloquent Withdrawal Speech was probably my single finest moment, with the possible exception of the time I won a fight at age seven by grabbing the arm of my attacker and spinning him around in circles until he started to cry for his sister. These days, I believe they teach that move in Aikido classes, at least on days when everyone can bring their sister in.

I do like the tea towels idea and will be in touch with your dad in short order. I'll be sure to order them slightly misspelled. Between the two of us I'm sure we can raise the unemployment rate to unprecedented post-war levels.

27 April 2005 11:41:33jonathan

Ah, the near-employment experience! I had heard rumours, of course- but to come across the story here- in all its glory and featuring quotes from Danny McGoority himself- is a marvel indeed.

Some day you must release the full text of your Eloquent Withdrawal Speech. I see it commercially reproduced on posters, beer mats and tea-towels, in the manner of that other great piece of life-advice, the Desideratum. Actually the two could go quite well together- some parts of the old poem seem quite relevant to your story:

'Be careful in your business affairs- the world is full of trickery'...'Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself'...

Me dad, by the way, could help you with the tea towels: he once trawled a job-lot of slightly mispelled cut-price Desideratums around the pubs and clubs of Newcastle, with some success; to this day you will hear bar-room brawls interrupted by a peaceable voice impeaching 'Go Placidly Amid The Noise And Haste...'

26 April 2005 11:22:27John Schoneboom

Hey! It's Pappy McPee! Thanks for dropping by and asking the tough questions. All I know is I've never been so depressed as the moment they offered me that job. I've got more than a touch of the ol' Danny McGoorty in me you see, if only I could shoot a billiard ball as well.

26 April 2005 10:49:50Pappy McPee

"Right, right, right...I'm not asking you if he can get the job...I'm asking you can he keep the job?"